Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1887-07-08


! wasn't here"
And she eagerly settled herself to take
note Of the stout young womans every mo-
tion. But Miss Theodocia's ideas Of polite
moss were a great deal too well defined TO
allow her to spend her time in washing
when there was company.
You're very kind, I'm sure said She
but the clothes can wait. dare say gran
ny would relish the plums, and anyhow
we've city boarder this month. an artist
young gentleman and any little luxury
comes in handy for the table"
can artist Y wistfully repeated Roxy.
Yes nodded Docia. "Such pictures
as hc paints with squeeze or two out Of
his color tubes, and dab of his brushes I!
! declare it seems like magic. You paint
too Roxy Stephens, don't you y
"A little confessed Roxy, thinking
gultily of the peach blossom plaques and
the panels covered with abortive attempts
at autumn leaves that she had spoiled.
But painting is no use, Docia. For wom-
am | mean. I'd a deal rather know how to
wash.
Docia Honeywell burst out laughing.
What odd things you do say, Roxy ~
cried she. "But when it comes TO painting
being no use, | just wish you could see the
little bits of canvas and mil-boards that
| our Mr.. JeiIerys gets a hundred and fifty
dollars for. hundred-and- fty-dol-
lars Going are you for since the bust
ness Of washing was temporarily suspend
ed, poor Roxy's purpose was blighted.
"Well, I'm sure it was very kind Of you TO
think Of the preserved plums and well be
very thankful for them, especially since mas
citron all moulded and the blackberries
| fermented and blew the tops off the cans
and broke the cellar windows. And, Roxy,
if I'll stop in some afternoon will you show
me that new crotchet stitch the one in
shells and waves, you know, like Mrs. Dea.
| Dodd's shawl
Roxy promised that she would. and set
forth, wondering to herself why it was
that she lacked the moral courage TO ask
Docia for instruction in the mysteries Of
the wash-tub just as frankly as Docia had
requested her assistance in unravelling the
complexities Of the new crotchet stitch
II think | must he dreadful goose, d"
sighed Roxy But all the same, that
washing has got to be done, whether well
or ill., 1t can't he worse than those algebra
problems in the Second Book. As - and Y
. equal z, so must soap, water, and plenty of
suchshine equal clean clothes
And so the next morning. when Aunt
Sally had eaten the ham and eggs which
Roxy had now learned to fry in so appetil-
ing manner, and drunk the coffee which
was rs clear as any amber, she set forth on
her daily task Of root and herb hunting,
| and Roxy carried the basket of clothes out
% the shore of the brook, where a mighty
old chcstnut-tree spread its dome Of shade,
washed and wrung and rinsed them until it
was "a mercy that there were any two
| threads left together. Then she hung them
ont ON the lines, which she had stretched
from tree to tree, skewering each article
safely i'm its place with wooden pins, so
that no frolicsome wind should lure it away.
And now" said Roxy, as with head
slightly on one side she viewed the results
Of her prowess, Il think I've earned little
rest And drawing a Franklin Square"
novel from her pocket, Roxy sat down un-
| der the big tree with her sun bonnet
thrown back, her loose curls tangled over
her forehead, and her round white arms
| still bare to the shoulder, to read, and be
| fore she knew it she was asleep.
When she awakened she was no longer
alone. Between her and the sunshine there
was-could she believe her eyes yea, YER
| lily there was young man hurriedly work
| ing at a portable easel, which was set up on
a level spot on the grass, with all the com
| posure and dpiomb Of a young man who
| felt himself to be in the right place in crea-
! tons diagram. She looked at him with
! solemn, sleep-shadowed eyes he looked
back at her exactly as if she was part of
! the landscape, and worked steadily on in
| silence.
Are you an artist - said she. "Are you
painting the old chestnut tree oh, you
must be the gentleman that Doca Honey
well told me about And then she sudden
| ly remembered the tangled fringe of curls,
the round, uncovered arms, and jumped up
in panic of very becoming confusion.
Il am Mark Jefferys,' said the artist,
composedly. Yes, | am boarding at
Squire Honeywell's honse. And YOU T.
Il am Roxy Stephens" said the girl,
hur'iedly pulling down her calico sleeves
If you viii just step up to the house
will giye you a jar of wild plums that l
promised to Docia that is with an abrupt
! consciousness of her own temerity), IF you
don't mind carrying it.
And this was the manner of their first
acquaintance.
Roxy was very sorry when Mr.. Jefferys
returned to the city. 1t seemed rs if his
| absence left a yawning hiatus in her life,
which had not previously been eventful or
rich in incident. But she did not know how
more than sorry Mark Jefferys was to part
| from her.
Full many flower is born to blush un-
seen, - he quoted to himself, after the hack
neyed style of the young man in general
when the little winged god has him at a dis
advantage. but she shall not blush un-
seen if my pictures in this years exhibition
! bring their price. She shall be my wife
| always supposing that she considers me
worthy of the treasured trove of her love-
/ |
| think-yes, think she likes me little
now. | am quite sure that if | had the
chance | could make her like me Just Il lit
tie more
And so now and then he ventured to
write to her, lest by any chance she might
! forget that such person existed
Now in real life things will sometimes
happen as strangely as they do in novels
! Every one knows this And it came to pass
that in the mid-April time, when skies above
and violets below are blue with a blueness
that no description can equal, Docia Honey
well came up to New York to buy herself a
silk dress and asked RoNana Stephens to
accompany her
Il never like TO trust entirely to my own
taste, said Docia 'and you have such ex-
celent ideas of color, Roxy
When the dress was duly settled upon
one of those delicious olives which, like the
hair of the poets heroine, was
Brown in the shadow and gold in the sum
there was yet good hour and half to
| spare before the train went.
"Oh, do let us go to the Academy of De
| sign y said Roxy lit can't be far. And
| | think it would rest my eyes TO look at
some pictures
1t was fine sunshiny, breezy afternoon
! I,l1 l. 1
/ slowly up the broad marble steps, looking
around at the giant palms, and the caout-
| chouc leaves, and the monster camellia-
/ trees whose dark green foliage shone as if
| it had been vanished. Beyond glowed the
! pictures, outlined in gold, full of vivid
| lights and deep mysterious shadows. \
| little crowd had collected before one particu-
! lar canvas, and following the usual impulse
of human nature, Docia and Roxy left the
other pictures-possibly possessed of equal
merit-unsurveyed, and joined the ilutter
| ing pcrfumed knot of gazers.
'Ihe picture of the season. she heard
some one saying in the soft, distinct tones
/ that denote your society oracle La Jolie
/ Blanchisseuse. Would you believe that
little square of canvas had been sold for Il
thousand dollars It's charmingly paint
| ed thing-oh, of course--but after all, what
is there to it y
1T is the sentiment the tone - answer
ed "A wise critic who was pencilling down
notes for an art paragraph in the next day 5
/ Sphinx In this age Of the world nobody
can tell what's going to succeed and what
isn't The public pulse don't bear feeling
as it used
Little Roxy, in her plain brown gown
and the poke hat of rough and ready straw,
with the loops of cherry ribbon which she
herself had sewn ON, stood ON tiptoe 10
peep over the shoulder of the tall lady in
/ front of her at the picture.
"Ah, Docia % she cried, starting back
] ,g .la oa,,,rIt frlin,pga nf Il ,,,itb tbo